Inquisition
by bertie456
Summary: [CBPC September] Why did the chicken cross the road?


_A/N: Okay, so this came out way longer than originally planned, but hopefully it'll make you smile a little. :)_

_A/N 2: The song in the first line is Bad Case of Lovin' You by Robert Palmer. Smurfs are also known as "Les Schtroumpfs" in some countries in case you are confused._

_Rated T for sexual references._

_Disclaimer: Bones n'est_ _pas à moi. (That's French for "Please don't sue me.")_

* * *

**Inquisition**

"Doctor, doctor, gimme the news, I got a bad case of lovin' you..."

Singing happily, if not especially tunefully, to himself, Seeley Booth strode through the doors of the Jeffersonian, a hefty dose of caffeine in his system and contented smile on his lips.

However, walking into a completely silent Medico-Legal lab was a remarkably similar experience to walking in on one's parents in flagrante, in that it was unexpected, deeply unsettling and somehow against the natural order of things, and Booth's contented smile swiftly nose-dived into a disturbed frown.

Glancing around nervously, two courses of action occurred to him. One part of his brain wanted to pull out his gun in case the squint-eating maniac who had obviously consumed the entire staff was still loitering for some FBI-shaped dessert, while the other part wanted to pull out his gun and use this witness-free opportunity to shoot some of the tantalisingly shiny targets that had been tempting him for years now.

As he tried to decide between the two admittedly gun-oriented plans, the cheerful voice of Camille Saroyan rang out through the empty room, and he let out a surprised yelp that sounded a lot less masculine than he would've liked. "Good morning, Seeley. Glad you could make it at last."

No less confused by the situation, Booth made his way around the raised middle platform to where her voice had come from, trying to silence the irrational whisper in the back of his mind warning him that his former girlfriend might be the one who had chowed down on his squints.

Rounding the corner, he was relieved to see that the rest of the team were indeed alive, although possibly not for long if the borderline-suicidal expression shared by Angela, Hodgins, Zach and Brennan was anything to go by.

Feeling the despondency coming off them in waves, he walked cautiously over to the group, who were sitting on the floor in a small circle, and asked suspiciously, "And what exactly did I make it to, Camille? Gathering of the coven? Cult induction ceremony? Girl Scout meeting?"

"Team bonding exercise," Angela answered, in a tone that made it very clear that she would rather be banging her head against a brick wall than taking part in the aforementioned exercise.

"Oh," Booth replied without enthusiasm, wondering if it was too late to turn tail and flee. Deciding that running for the hills would be too difficult to live down, he looked back towards the strange little circle as another thought dawned on him. "You know, the team building exercises at the FBI are always kind of physical. Like a hike in the wilderness, or an assault course, or something. How come you're all just sat here?"

"Because Wilson in Accounting rigged the draw," Hodgins replied bitterly, obviously wishing some kind of violent harm on the duplicitous Wilson.

"What Dr Hodgins meant to say," Cam interrupted smoothly, "Is that when we drew lots for the type of activity each team would be doing today, the accounts department were allocated the Spring Lake assault course, and we were given a somewhat less physical exercise."

Booth nodded in comprehension, fully aware of what the FBI accountants were capable of and guessing that those at the Jeffersonian would be no less ruthless. "And what exercise would that be?"

An amused smile passed briefly across Cam's perfectly glossed lips but her professional exterior remained in tact as she said sweetly, with an air that somehow reminded Booth of the witch in Hansel and Gretel, "Sit down and I'll explain."

Brennan and Zach shuffled aside to make room for him, but the agent just looked at the circle with mild terror, picturing it as the fairytale gingerbread house. "Look, I'm not really one of you squints. I don't think I need to-"

"Sit down, Seeley," Cam ordered firmly and, feeling like Hansel being yanked in by the straps of his lederhosen, Booth reluctantly dropped to the floor between the two doctors, his previously cheerful mood evaporating into the ether.

"Now," the pathologist began, much like an overly enthusiastic supply teacher minding a detention class, "This exercise involves getting to know more about your team-mates. Each person has to ask everyone in the circle a question and everyone must answer truthfully. It's supposed to teach us to be more open and honest with each other."

The entire circle seemed to roll their eyes at the same time, sending off an unanimous message that they were happy being closed and dishonest. Leaning back on his hands, Booth contemplated miserably, "I'm starting to think that Girl Scout guess might not have been far wrong after all..."

Like a lioness after her prey, Cam decided to ignore the cocky alpha-zebra and target the weakest first. "Zach, would you like to start?"

She felt a brief pang of guilt when the young man looked at her as though she'd just pounced and bitten off his meaty zebra leg. "I don't know what to ask," he stammered, terrified. "I'm not good with conversation in general and I don't know what sort of questions are appropriate in these circumstances."

Not wanting this experience to scar him for life, she offered him her least predatory smile and said kindly, "Just ask whatever you'd like. No-one is allowed to judge here."

Looking around awkwardly, Zach fixed his gaze on Hodgins and asked the only kind of question he was fully comfortable with. "What's the capital city of Mongolia?"

"Ulan Bator," the entomologist replied quickly.

"What year was President Abraham Lincoln assassinated?"

Angela thought for a second before answering confidently, "1865."

Like a pop-quiz robot, Zach continued, "Dr. Brennan, what is the chemical symbol for Tungsten?"

"W," she said with a smile. "Good question, Zach."

Rounding on a bewildered Dr Saroyan, who was still stunned by the unexpected behavior of her runt zebra, he then questioned, "What is the longest bone in the human body?"

"The femur?" Cam answered uncertainly, and could barely contain her relief when the young doctor, satisfied with her answer, turned his piercing robot gaze to Booth.

"Agent Booth, what is the square root of 256?"

Booth stared at him blankly as his mind desperately tried to recall the fourth grade math class where he'd learnt what a square root was. After only recalling memories of epic spit-wad battles with Sam Thomas, his next-door neighbor, he shrugged in response, "Pass."

"16," Zach answered simply, before falling silent again and leaving everyone with a strange post-pop-quiz satisfaction they hadn't experienced in years. Everyone but Booth, that is, who was left with the familiar sense of failure which had so often followed his school pop quizzes.

Breaking the dazed trance that had fallen over the group as they basked in their own glory, Cam looked at Zach, whose mind had now returned to solving the mysteries of the universe, and said with a forced smile, "Well, that was..." _Bracing,_ her mind supplied. "Interesting. But the point of this exercise was to give you the chance to ask personal questions too, Zach."

"Why would I want to do that?" Zach inquired, with the genuine bemusement of a small child who had just been told that it was possible to go to the store and not buy a large tub of marshmallow fluff while there.

Like the imaginary child's mother, Cam decided to preserve his clueless innocence and ignored the question as she turned to Hodgins. "Dr Hodgins, would you like to ask your questions?"

Despite having three doctorates, a ridiculously large family fortune and a very rewarding career, Hodgins' sense of humor had yet to progress beyond that of a ten-year-old. "Antidisestablishmentarianism is a very long word," he said to Zach with a grin. "How do you spell it?"

"A-n-t-i-d-i-s-e-s-t-a," Zach began mechanically, but stopped as sniggers broke out around the circle, mostly from Booth, who'd found it funny as a child and clearly hadn't matured much, and Angela, who slapped her boyfriend playfully on the arm in an effort to hide her amusement.

"Don't be mean to him," she chided, still smiling.

Realising that teasing Zach was the equivalent of bullying a foreign exchange student, albeit one from another planet instead of another country, Hodgins' morality kicked in and he spared the young doctor any further confusion. "The answer's i-t, genius."

Leaving Zach to puzzle over the method of obtaining said answer, Jack then faced Dr Saroyan, deciding that picking on the supply teacher was not only allowed but damn well expected. "What color does a Smurf go when you choke it?"

While Cam stared at him in disbelief, Brennan leaned towards Angela, asking in a stage-whisper, "What's a Smurf?"

Any other time, Angela would've loved to make Temperance guess and see what her friend's scientific mind conjured up when hearing the word "smurf." However, at that moment, she was enjoying Cam's discomfort too much and whispered absently, "It's a small blue cartoon character, honey."

Thinking harder than she would've liked to admit, the pathologist eventually guessed, "Purple?"

Hodgins grinned, impressed with her knowledge of Smurf biology. "Good choice, Dr Saroyan." Turning to face the woman sitting on his other side, he asked with complete sincerity, "Miss Montenegro, what color panties are you wearing today?"

A broad smile crossed Angela's face, fully aware that he already knew the answer from their early morning rendezvous in the parking structure. Nevertheless, she answered happily, "That would be light blue with pink trim."

There was an audible groan around the circle as this knowledge was shared.

"Angela..." Temperance chided disapprovingly, unable to hide her slight smirk.

"That was way too much information for this early in the morning," Booth agreed vehemently, omitting the fact that he would be quite content to learn that information about a certain forensic anthropologist. And not the one who enjoyed racing beetles.

The entomologist shrugged, still grinning, "Hey, no judging other people's questions."

Booth raised his hands innocently. "I'm not judging." His voice remained casual but he fixed Hodgins with a challenging glare. "But if you even think about asking me that question, I will shoot you. Just so we're clear"

Seeing that the morning's exercise was making the former sniper increasingly trigger-happy, Jack gave him what he hoped was a pacifying nod, before seizing the opportunity to ask a question that he'd been wanting the answer to for years. "So, Booth, you ever hear of any private meetings between the Director of the FBI and Martha Stewart?"

"No," Booth answered flatly.

Thus coming to the conclusion that Rosie O'Donnell was the television personality in cahoots with the government, Hodgins turned to the remaining team member and asked with the air of a cheesy '70s quiz show host, "Dr Brennan, why did the chicken cross the road?"

"What chicken?" Temperance questioned suspiciously. "What road would it be crossing?"

"Just say "To get to the other side," Bones," Booth prompted helpfully, but, as always, Temperance was not about to take someone else's word for it.

"How is that the answer? Surely that's obvious - the purpose of crossing a road would be to reach the other side, but there's always a deeper reasoning behind it, such as something desirable on the other side or something undesirable on the original side."

Seeing that this analysis of the chicken's motivation could last till kingdom come, Cam cut in again. "Well, thank you, Dr Hodgins, but again, feel free to make the questions more revealing. For example," She faced Zach, deciding to show them how it was done, "If you were stranded on a desert island, what three things would you take with you?"

Zach's eyes didn't leave hers and she could almost see the cogs in his android brain turning as he weighed up the possibilities. Eventually, he answered, "A boat, a communication device and sufficient food."

Quiet laughs broke out around the circle as Cam looked taken aback by the absurdly practical answer. Taking a deep breath, she pressed on, determined to get these people to open up even if it killed her. "Dr Hodgins, why did you decide to become an entomologist?"

"I like bugs."

The laughter became slightly louder, knowing that Hodgins' blunt answer was fully intentionally. Biting back her frustration, Cam looked at the woman to Hodgins' right, hoping that the entomologist had not been a bad influence. "Angela, can you tell us what it is you see in Hodgins?"

However, since Angela was actually the one doing the influencing, she replied simply, "He likes bugs."

Even Zach started to snigger at this and Camille cast her eyes heavenwards before facing the anthropologist sitting next to Angela, thinking that she would at least provide a sincere answer. "Dr Brennan, is there anything that could be done to improve your job here at the Jeffersonian?"

Fully sincere, Temperance stated, "A gun."

Hodgins snorted loudly and Angela clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to suppress her own giggles, while Cam gave the yawning FBI agent her most serious stare, praying he'd be sensible. "What one thing would you like most in the world right now?"

"Honestly?" Booth asked casually, having built up a natural immunity to death stares after two years of being partnered with Temperance Brennan. "I'd love a beer."

Her stare changed to one of disapproval. "Seeley, it's 9.30 in the morning."

"Yes, and the fact that I would really, really like a beer should tell you something about how my morning's going."

Sighing, Cam conceded defeat, all her supply teacher chirpiness exhausted by the problem class. "Fine, let's just get the questions asked and then you can all take the rest of the day off. Angela, it's all yours."

The artist sat upright, her eyes twinkling. "I get to ask any question I want, right? Even personal ones?"

Worried by her sudden burst of enthusiasm, Dr Saroyan answered uncertainly, "Yes, of course."

Angela beamed and turned to Zach with a mischievous glint in her eye, "What is your favorite sexual position?"

On hearing the question, Booth, Brennan and Cam stared at her, wide-eyed, realising the high school atmosphere had swiftly vanished and the questions coming up were not ones they wanted to answer while fully sober. Hodgins chuckled to himself at the development while Zach, for his part, looked utterly baffled at the question posed to him. "There's more than one?"

Angela just gave him a pitying smile. "You'll learn, sweetie." Her smile then became the opposite of pitying as she confidently addressed the pathologist with a friendly tone. "Dr Saroyan, what has been your most embarrassing romantic encounter?"

Cam looked down, smiling to herself at the memory and deciding that honesty was the best policy against Angela's renowned lie-detecting abilities. "I was in college," she began, "And I was dating a guy called Dan Adams." Her tone became conversational, and the dejected atmosphere around the circle started to ebb slightly. "We both decided to sneak out of a lecture and so we went outside the hall, at the back of the parking lot and started to... you know..."

Everyone gave an understanding nod, except Zach who was still puzzling over the mechanics of different positions, and she continued, "Well, everything was going fine, until this cat ran past. I'm not talking some cute little kitty - this cat was the size of a small country and probably got through food at the same rate. Anyway, we were busy until this huge cat started jumping on all the hoods of the cars and setting a bunch of alarms off."

"Mood killer," Hodgins chipped in with a wince, but Cam only smiled.

"That's not the worst part. When all the alarms went off, everyone who had actually stayed in the lecture went to look out of the windows to check someone wasn't trying to steal their cars."

"And they saw?" Brennan asked, feeling suddenly sorry for her boss.

Cam nodded ruefully. "Nothing X-rated, but my entire biology class saw enough of me and Dan to realise that we'd skipped the lecture for something more... hands-on. Embarrassing doesn't begin to describe."

"Ouch," Angela said sympathetically, impressed that the straight-laced pathologist had been brave enough to share. Satisfied, she looked to Cam's left and repeated an earlier question with a grin, one to which she already knew the answer, "Now, Dr Hodgins, what color panties are _you_ wearing today?"

Leaning in, Hodgins said softly, but just loud enough for the rest of the circle to hear, "Who says I'm wearing any?"

This time, the groan was louder and infinitely more disgusted.

"I could happily have gone to my grave without knowing that information," Booth said, looking mildly nauseous, and Brennan, Cam and Zach all nodded fervently, still trying to deal with the mental picture that had been inflicted upon them.

Rolling her eyes, Angela gave her boyfriend's thigh a reassuing squeeze, meeting with another shudder from Booth, before turning to the anthropologist on her right who said quickly, "Yes, I am wearing panties, Angela."

"Good to know, sweetie," the artist replied, unphased. "But your question is..." Mental drum roll. "Where is the most unusual place you've had sex?"

There was silence for a minute as Brennan considered her answer and Angela noted with amusement that Booth now seemed a lot more interested in the proceedings. Eventually she said decisively, "In a tree."

There was silence as this revelation sank in.

"_In_ a tree?" Booth finally repeated in disbelief. "Not, like, against it, or next to it?"

Recalling the logistics of her encounter, Temperance merely nodded firmly. "No, definitely in."

"Where was this tree?" her best friend pressed, leaning forward with a devilish grin. "And who was playing Tarzan?"

At this comment, Booth felt a sudden rush of jealousy, but contented himself with glaring at Angela for foiling his plan to keep any Tarzan related imagery out of his mind. However, much to Booth's relief and Angela's disappointment, Brennan replied with a smile, "I thought I only had to answer one question."

"Oh no, Bren, I want details." She fixed her with a pleading gaze. "I _need_ details."

Temperance shook her head. "You asked, I answered. It's Booth's turn now." Pouting like a child whose candy had been snatched away at the last moment, Angela reluctantly turned to Booth and her pout disappeared when she realised she'd hit the equivalent of the Nestle factory.

Booth suddenly felt a pang of fear as Angela's eyes roamed over him, clearly pondering exactly which question would be most humiliating for him. Her gaze fixed on his belt and she asked with a wicked smile, "Have you ever used your handcuffs in the bedroom?" Learning from her mistakes, she added, "And I want details."

Shrugging, Booth answered quickly, "Nope, sorry."

The artist eyed him suspiciously before declaring, "You're lying."

"You're supposed to answer all questions truthfully, Booth," his partner reminded him, scoldingly, and he sighed, cursing Angela's psychic abilities and Brennan's deep-seated love of rules.

"Okay, I have. Once."

He didn't say anymore, causing Angela to raise her eyebrows. "And?"

About to take a trip down memory lane on the back of a bucking bronco, Booth explained briefly, a note of resignation in his voice, "It was with Rebecca. She woke up one morning and decided that handcuffing me to the bed would be a good way to start the day. It was going fine, until she suddenly felt sick and ran off to the bathroom." In response to their surprised looks, he elaborated, "We found out later it was morning sickness - we didn't know she was pregnant at the time."

"So, I'm guessing it didn't go so well after that?" Cam asked, hiding a smirk.

Booth shook his head miserably. "Understatement of the century. She'd put the key to the cuffs down her bra so I couldn't get it, and it had fallen out when she was throwing up in the toilet."

Angela's eyes widened. "She didn't..."

"She flushed it," he finished for her, feeling like he'd now fallen off the proverbial bronco and was being dragged down the rest of the lane with his foot caught in the stirrup. "I ended up cuffed to that bed, naked, for an hour and a half while she went across town to my office for the spare key." Leaning back on his hands, he looked across at Angela as though she was the evil bronco in human form. "Happy now?"

"Ecstatic," she replied happily, with a grin that told him he'd just given her enough ammunition to make his life hell if she so wished.

Wanting to move on and put Booth out of his misery, Dr Saroyan looked over towards Temperance with an inviting gesture. "Dr Brennan, it's your turn to ask the questions."

Nodding thoughtfully, she spoke to her former assistant first. "Why did you choose to stay at the Jeffersonian instead of applying for a position with more seniority elsewhere?"

Everyone seemed surprised at the serious nature of her question and they waited intently for Zach to respond. Gathering his thoughts, he eventually said quietly, "It was because I like working here. I believe that, as a team, we work at optimum efficiency and on a social level, I feel more confident engaging in discussion with people here instead of those I've never met."

Angela resisted the urge to make the type of noise usually reserved for pictures of sleeping baby animals while Brennan nodded again, mulling over his response, before asking her second, very blunt, question. "Dr Saroyan, when you first started working here, did you resent my relationship with Booth?"

Choosing her words carefully and avoiding a simple "yes", Cam met her gaze. "Honestly? Maybe a little. After my history with Seeley and my initial disagreements with you, the fact that you two were so close was unsettling for me. But I'm not sure I'd say that I resented it, rather that it just bothered me slightly."

The atmosphere had now become a lot more sober as Booth shifted uncomfortably where he sat, willing his partner not to ask any more overly intrusive questions. Unfortunately for the FBI agent, Brennan was not good at taking hints, psychic or otherwise. "Hodgins, why did you hide your wealth from me for so long?"

Jack looked down, speaking sincerely out of respect for his colleague, "I didn't want to it to affect our working relationship. I thought they'd be some sort of awkwardness if you found out that I had a large amount of control over the running of the Jeffersonian, and I didn't want to draw anybody's attention to that."

He felt like the Spanish Inquistion had let him off with a slap on the wrist when Temperance then moved on to Angela. "Why do you do this job instead of working as a full time artist?"

"It pays well," she answered with a smile that the anthropologist didn't return.

"Hodgins has money," she reasoned logically. "That can't be the only reason you still work here."

Sighing, her friend spoke honestly, "Then call it job satisfaction, I guess. As much as I hate looking at bodies and dead flesh, the fact that I can give these victims back their faces and hopefully help find their killers is rewarding. I wouldn't want to lose that."

Apparently satisfied, Brennan rotated herself to face the agent on her other side, simultaneously filling Angela with a sense of relief and Booth with a sense of impending dread. "What qualities do you look for in a mate?" she inquired, before explaining, "Most humans generally have a type that they prefer - physicality, appearance, particular qualities - but since you've been in relationships with both Dr Saroyan and Rebecca, who are obviously very different, I was wondering what attracts you to a mate."

Feeling like he was on the Discovery Channel, Booth replied uncertainly, "I don't think I really have a preference for any physical characteristics. I mean, a great body is always a plus, but I like women who can stand up for themselves, rather than those who need to rely on me for everything." Seeing Temperance raise her eyebrows, clearly thinking of all the times he'd yelled at her for charging off on her own like a rhino with a gun, he corrected himself. "Don't get me wrong, I do like to be needed occasionally, but I'd take a strong woman over a clingy one anyday."

He glanced up at Brennan, meeting her gaze. "Eyes are important too. I don't mean the color - blue, brown, whatever - but what's inside them. I can't explain it very well, but when I look into their eyes, I need to see something there, you know? A sparkle, or a glimmer, or a hint of something..."

He trailed off, unsure what he was trying to say, and she gave him a small smile, speaking softly. "I think I know what you mean."

Clearing her throat, Cam cut in once again. "Thank you, Dr Brennan." Addressing the rest of the group, she added pointedly, "I'm glad at least someone has put this opportunity to good use." She turned to Booth, fairly certain he wouldn't follow his partner's good example. "It's all yours, Seeley."

Unsure of what questions to ask a bunch of squints, Booth decided to employ the "Do unto others as they just did unto you" approach. Facing the young doctor on his right, he asked casually, "What's 64 multiplied by 47?"

"3008," Zach answered instantly, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

As he moved contentedly onto Cam, Booth was stopped as Brennan asked curiously, "Did you know the answer to that, Booth?"

He flashed her a cheerful smile. "I had no idea. But the kid seems happiest with math questions and who am I to deny him that?" Winking at her, he swivelled back round to question her boss. "So, Camille, what's the meaning of life?"

"Funny, Seeley," she replied sarcastically. "So very funny."

"Hey, you were the one asking the deep and meaningful questions," he countered with a defensive shrug. Taking Cam's smirk as a white flag of surrender, he moved on to the man next to her as his military instinct kicked in and he wondered if he could get another omniscient squint to admit defeat. Choosing his most difficult question, he challenged Hodgins, "What color is a depressed Smurf?"

Booth felt a brief rush of elation as the doctor's eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration, trying to picture Papa Smurf's complexion if all the other Smurfs were to die in a freak earthquake. Reaching a conclusion, he said confidently, "Black."

"Good call," the agent conceded, reluctantly accepting Hodgins as his equal regarding the relationships between Smurf mood and color. Thinking of relationships, he looked at the entomologist's girlfriend, inquiring nonchalantly, "How many times have you and Hodgins had sex in Bones' office?"

He felt an strange sense of gratification when Angela's face flushed at the question and she answered guiltily, "Three."

"Ange!" Temperance cut in, annoyed.

Her friend looked up at her apologetically, "Sorry, sweetie. It's just the whole "sex in the boss' office" thing - we couldn't help it. There must be some anthropological reason behind it anyway, so if you think about it, it's really not our fault." Angela had no idea whether there actually was an anthropological reason for it, but since Brennan found one for most things, she figured it was a fairly safe bet.

Brennan did not look convinced and Booth, now satisfied that he had equal ammunition against Angela if it ever came down to a metaphorical firefight, took it upon himself to distract his partner from the sullied state of her office. "What do you look for in a mate, Bones?" He was resoundingly successful at this distraction as she turned round to face him in surprise. "Hey, you asked me first. I'm just curious to know what _your_ type is."

Staring at the floor, Temperance began her considered response. "Well, physicality is important. It's an anthropological imperative to seek a strong, virile partner, and physique is an effective method of judging that. Looking at my former boyfriends, I'd say that I prefer a certain type of complexion - dark hair, dark eyes, tall build - but equally, I find that I require some sort of intellectual stimulation too."

"Intellectual stimulation?" Booth queried, one part of his mind leaping to the thought of romance novels before being slapped back down by the other, more restrained, part.

"Conversation," Brennan simplified. "Intellectual debate, arguments, discussions... Something that involves intercourse on a level other than physical."

Booth just nodded in response, the mature part of his brain feeling satisfied that at least he was having some type of intercourse with his partner and the gutter-dwelling part still thinking purely about the word "intercourse."

Seeing that Booth had finished his questions and was now lost in a Temperance-Brennan-shaped daydream, Cam addressed the group as a whole with a smile, "Okay, that completes the mandatory team building exercise. Unless anyone has anything else they'd like to raise, the rest of the day is yours to spend as you want." She scanned the group, hoping for some sort of reaction. "Anyone got anything they wish to say?"

Getting to his feet with a groan, Booth looked down at his partner. "Diner?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Brennan replied with a smile as the rest of them gladly got up from the floor and headed out towards the doors, relieved that the team bonding ordeal was over.

Camille watched them go, a small smile on her face as she realised that, despite their differences, the group seemed happy to be together. Eager to enjoy the day off as well, she pulled out the required evaluation form from her file and, after locating her elusive pen, quickly filled in the answers - who was present, what form did the team-building exercise take and other equally fact-based questions. However, when she reached the final question she paused.

_What was gained from this exercise?_

She twirled the pen in her fingers, unsure of what to write. Yes, she had found out many things; that Zach has a lot to learn about sex, that Smurfs go purple when asphyxiated and black when sad, that Brennan has an unhealthy obsession with guns and that Booth sucks at math. Not to mention the fact that Angela was wearing light blue panties that day.

Deciding against sharing this information with her superiors, she thought back to the brief exchange between Brennan and Booth. Recalling the particularly revealing answers given by the oblivious partners, Cam smiled and wrote simply,

_Progress was made._

* * *

_**The End**_

_And since you made it all the way here, how about leaving a review to mark your achievement? Go on, let me know someone actually read this... :) _


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